Free Breathless by Claire Adams

and pawed at Johnny’s pants, and he
chuckled, reaching down and pulling my blouse off. I hadn’t even noticed that
it had managed to move up along my skin, almost exposing my breasts in my bra
already.
    In moments, our clothes fell away, and I was touching
him—wrapping my hand around his cock and stroking slowly. Johnny was thicker
than I had imagined, not quite as long, but plenty long enough, and I licked my
lips, moaning softly as he reached up between my legs once more. He pulled my
panties down, the last barrier between our bodies, and I shivered at the
feeling of his fingers touching me. Johnny’s fingers slipped and slid between
my labia, finding my clit, and I moaned, pushing my hips down, gripping him
tighter in my hand as he began to rub and stroke me. “You’re sure you want
this,” Johnny said, somewhere between a statement and a question. I nodded,
thinking that there was absolutely nothing I wanted more.
    Johnny slipped down along my body, his hips shifting
between my legs, and I let go of him, my hands moving to his shoulders, my arms
wrapping around him. “Any time you want me to stop, just tell me and I will,”
Johnny murmured, brushing his lips against mine. I felt his hard, hot cock
slipping and sliding along my soaking wet folds as he rocked his hips, rubbing
up against me constantly. “Any time, you get me?” I nodded, breathless, full of
desire.
    “Yeah—don’t stop,” I said, smiling slightly. Johnny
guided himself up against me, and then he thrust up into me slowly, his thick,
hard cock pushing past the resistance of my body inch by inch. I moaned out,
grabbing at his shoulders desperately, my eyes falling closed and my head
tilting back. “Don’t—don’t stop, please,” I said again. I felt Johnny’s lips
curving in a smile as he pushed into me deeper and deeper, taking his time.
    Finally, his hips were flush against mine, and we both
paused, struggling to catch our breath. He began to move inside of me, slowly
at first, and every movement sent tingling, electric jolts of pleasure through
my body. “God, Becky,” Johnny said, half-moaning as he brought his lips down
onto mine again. “You feel so good—so fucking good.” I nodded, not even able to
speak, only able to kiss him, to grip his shoulders as hard as I possibly
could, to wrap my legs around him and push my hips down to meet his thrusts.
    We moved together, and every time Johnny pushed up deeper
inside of me, I felt myself getting more and more turned on, closer and closer
to orgasm. I couldn’t even hear the sounds of the party raging downstairs
anymore, only the sounds of our moans and gasps and panting breaths, the sound
of our bodies moving together with wet, slapping, sucking noises. Johnny
reached down between our bodies and I cried out as he began to stroke and rub
my clit again, keeping time with his thrusts.
    In a matter of moments—I certainly didn’t know how
long it had been—I hit my climax, my fingernails digging into Johnny’s
shoulders, my legs tightening around him, my whole body awash in wave after
wave of pleasure. I was barely even aware of him groaning as he reached his own
orgasm, but everything in my body tingled as we kept moving together until we
simply couldn’t anymore, until I felt his weight against me when he collapsed,
both of us panting.

 
    The next morning, I shivered as I awakened, something
ticklish brushing along the back of my neck; for just a second I was confused,
disoriented—with no idea where I was. But the night before came flooding back
in the next instant, and I smiled to myself, remembering how I had ended up in
Johnny’s bed, how we had gone from me asking him to slow down, to me almost
begging him to hurry up. I could still feel the ache deep down in my hips, the
tenderness where he’d pushed up into me.
    I realized that the ticklish feeling at the back of my
neck was Johnny’s lips, brushing against my sensitive skin, his hot breath
tracing the curve of my